


Narcissus

by ashbird



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Yuletide 2018, pre-mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-19 17:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17006025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashbird/pseuds/ashbird
Summary: Thanks to Karios for beta-reading and all the suggestions. All mistakes leftover are mine.





	Narcissus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/gifts).



> Thanks to Karios for beta-reading and all the suggestions. All mistakes leftover are mine.

Capricious blond hair framed Dorian's face as he wound a strand around a finger idly. The tense line of his lips and the faint crease in his brow hinted vexation, but the expression vanished in favor of a quicksilver smile. Trouble was imminent. "No."

"No?" Suspicion turned over in Major Klaus von dem Eberbach's eyes as he stared at the thief. He pressed his hands against the table and leaned forward as if to warn Dorian off his present course. "You can't steal the painting?"

"Well, I'm not saying that. Naturally, I'm _very capable_ of stealing the painting--"

Klaus' lips twisted in a reflexive scowl. "...then what are you saying?"

Invisible sparks collided as their staring match intensified and made the atmosphere in the room increasingly uncomfortable. The few Alphabets in the room decided to make themselves scarce, reluctant to be witnesses to any impending crossfire.

Paying them no heed, Klaus' attention focused on the eccentric fop across from him. "I thought you were the best. If you are as good as you say you are, you should know that this is the fastest way, idiot."

The words cut casually at pride and skill, but Dorian shook off Klaus' callous expressiveness like water off a duck's back.

The thief waved his hand carelessly over the museum blueprints spread over the table. More detailed information sat in a small stack of documents to the side, gathered by the Alphabet for the sake of the mission. Dorian had skimmed through them. Nothing seemed amiss. "The painting is out in the open during the day, scarcely protected by anything more than a tottering old guard at the front entrance. Even you could punch him and flee with the painting in less than five minutes. There's nothing challenging about it."

"So? Doesn't that just make your job easier, _dieb_?" Klaus followed the swing of Dorian's hand, reviewing the blueprints with critical eyes. Tiny figurines painted in different colors sat on top of it, each carefully positioned to represent where each player would be in the plan.

Klaus didn't see the problem with a simple and straightforward arrangement. He began making his way around the table, annoyance coming out in a display of intimidating pressure. "Just steal the bloody painting, get to me before anyone catches wind of you, and job well done. It's efficient and wastes nobody's time or money."

"...As much as James might make it seem, I'm not a petty career criminal looking for a quick and easy job. You're hiring Eroica, not _Monday_." Dorian matched each step Klaus took around the table, happy to chase Klaus rather than bend to his attempt at intimidation. When their eyes met, the Major's scornful glower clashed with Eroica's glib smile. The wayward pursuit continued until both men wordlessly decided to halt in their slow circling.

"You know," Dorian tore his gaze away from Klaus as he remarked, almost casually, "...I sometimes send my calling card ahead of time to give adequate warning to places I'm going to steal from so they may increase their security."

There was a pause.

"...Are you telling me you won't do it unless we increase the difficulty for you?" Klaus stared at the thief as if Dorian had grown three gargantuan heads in a single instant. "Are you an actual idiot?"

A chuckle drifted from Dorian's throat, soft and mellifluous.

His lashes lowered a fraction, fanning over bright blue eyes as the earl angled his head to look up at Klaus through them. "...Major, do you think the Rogue's Gallery would give me any sort of respect if my accomplishments included such rudimentary tactics, regardless of the profit I earned?" Dorian shook his head and spread his hands out as he spoke.

"Each one of my heists have been testaments to my team's skill and creativity. Not many thieves can do the things we do." Easy confidence radiated from his every pore, even as Dorian dropped the pose and let his hands fall to his sides. One hand rested on his hip. "I don't simply say we're the best, we _are_ the best."

"We wouldn't hire you if you were anything less." Coming from just about anyone else, the statement could have been a compliment to the thief's prowess. However, from Klaus, Dorian knew only too well that it was anything but.

"This isn't for one of your damned capers, Eroica," Klaus continued, slamming a fist down on the table. Had Dorian been one of the Major's Alphabets, he might have been sent cowering. "Lives depend on getting this painting out of there before sundown tomorrow. Your pride doesn't have a say here."

A resigned sigh from the thief's lips sliced through the thick tension in the air.

" _Major_..." Dorian's tone cut short Klaus' rant. It was without the flightiness of seconds prior. "Let's stop the pretense. Why on earth am I actually here?"

Klaus went still, the vortex of his anger doused by a renewed alertness in response to Dorian's change in demeanor. Lighthearted flippancy with a haphazardous dash of perversion was the thief's usual response to nearly all situations, even trying ones where both their men were in immediate danger.

While the frivolity remained ever present, the Major glimpsed the rare, underlying seriousness beneath the fool's playful exterior. It was unsettling. " _What?_ Have you not been paying attention for the past hour?"

Using movements casual and unhurried, Dorian swept his long hair over one shoulder and lounged against the table. Each minuscule action played for an audience, deliberately captivating. His dexterous fingers hovered over the blueprints before he carefully selected a colored piece, his own, and held it up in plain sight.

A quick snap of his fingers and the figurine was gone. Empty, upturned palms and a close-fitting, sleeveless tunic divulged no immediate hiding place. "No, my dear Major," Dorian murmured. "But this is hardly a mission NATO would hire a world renowned criminal for. Brute force would likely result in the same thing... if it were just about stealing a painting."

"Don't call me that," Klaus snapped, refusing to be distracted by the thief's parlor tricks. His gaze remained steadily on Dorian, and scorchingly attentive. "If NATO wants to hire you, then I'll obey orders. My personal objections don't matter."

Dorian's attention dipped back down to the table, his fingers once more toying with the pieces. Removing one left a gaping hole in the layout, but the thief had no hardship rearranging the leftover players. He knew the Alphabets well and what role suited them just as much as Klaus did, if only through the sheer amount of times their teams had intentionally or unintentionally crossed paths. "I suppose you're right. Orders from your superiors are certainly something you go above and beyond to fulfill."

A brief, if amused, smile lifted the corners of the thief's lips because they both knew it to be not wholly true.

Klaus ignored the comment and instead reached for his carton of cigarettes. Once he fitted one between his lips and had the end lit, he met Dorian's persistent stare with a narrowed gaze. "Your point?"

"It appears NATO has gone to great lengths to set the stage for Eroica to steal _Narcissus_ , the current pride and joy of the museum," Dorian said slowly, gauging. His hand curved around Z's piece fondly, caressing it with the pad of his thumb with absent-minded inattention. "I admit the painting really is to my tastes, even if it's a terribly easy heist."

Mirth darted over the thief's expression for a second, but his demeanor remained mostly somber. "Should I expect my service will be rewarded with a meeting with Interpol once I have the painting in my hands?"

Klaus shook his head in disbelief, and then bristled when he saw what Dorian held. "You and that damned painting deserve each other. Narcissistic bastards." He nearly crushed his cigarette between his fingers, but he refrained and set it down in his ashtray. With the thief perched where he was, it was easy work to go around the table and snatch the figurine away from the other man. Without looking, the Major tossed the piece down next to the others. "Not everything is about you, Eroica."

"Then what, pray tell, is going on?" Remaining settled on edge of the table, the thief relinquished the captive toy without fuss and grasped hold of Klaus' wrist instead. His grip wasn't unbreakable, but it was firm. "I believe I've worked with you long enough to know that there's something more to this."

"Most of the time, you're fucking up my missions beyond recognition," Klaus pointed out irritably. He drew his hand back and bared his teeth at the thief in warning, but didn't go out of his way to break the hold. Dorian was no threat, just an irritant, and the thief wouldn't dare do anything untoward knowing he risked a punch to his pretty nose if his hands wandered. "Just do as you're told. You don't need to know beyond that scope."

That wasn't the answer Dorian was looking for. He smiled coyly at Klaus, but his fingers contrarily tightened and attempted to reel the other man back in. "You know I'll find out either way."

Klaus didn't budge a single step. "Don't think I won't send Agent G to Alaska," Klaus retorted. He narrowed his eyes as Dorian began to pull up the easygoing demeanor again.

"Who said anything about darling G?" A parody of innocence flashed on the thief's face. It wasn't remotely convincing. "In any case, I could find out. Either that or I won't steal _Narcissus_ , as much as I'd love to assist you, Major."

"I shouldn't need to remind you, but international espionage isn't a _game_." A serious Dorian made Klaus uneasy; the flippant one simply infuriated him. All too familiar frustration lurched into Klaus, and he used their proximity to fling Dorian against the table. The thief fell into it with a quiet grunt, no doubt feeling the unpleasant sensation of tiny pieces of plastic pressing into his body that was wholly deserved.

Klaus held him there with almost no effort. Dorian had some measure of strength, but against Klaus, resistance was useless.

"Maybe I _should_ hand you over to Interpol. It'd save me the fucking headache."

***

Dorian frowned and grew silent. There were worse things the Major could have said. Hell, there were worse things Klaus _did say_ with regularity.

Fragments of irritation twined in Dorian's chest, spawned from years of constant rejection and running headlong after the remote possibility that the Major would give him a _chance_. After all, Dorian had given Klaus more than a decade's worth of devotion, hope and love.

Yet, if this meeting was any indication, they were still stumbling around on the lopsided chase they'd started years ago. Nothing had changed. Any rational man would have given up after the first punch.

Not that anyone could, in full confidence, say _Eroica_ was a rational man.

In the beginning, Dorian knew that the Major wouldn't give in to his advances so easily.

Why would he when Dorian's methods of flirtation seemed to be Iron Klaus' anathema? Not that _any_ method of wooing Klaus von dem Eberbach would be the likelier choice. In general, the man seemed destined for eternal bachelorhood, or an arranged marriage at the behest of his father.

Dorian found it easier to keep all the serious considerations to the back of his mind as a problem for another day.

Was it time for him to face reality? Dorian's lips pursed before he spoke, "I, at least, deserve to know what I'm risking doing this for you, Major."

Klaus watched an array of expressions pass unfiltered through the earl's face before it settled. Whatever they meant, a distant part of him thought the inadvertent display made Dorian feel more real than his usual beatific facades.

Still, they were here for business.

The corners of Klaus' mouth hooked up in a pristine smile. His voice was smooth, controlled and deadly when he spoke. "And what if I have to kill you once you know?"

Sudden wariness flooded Dorian involuntarily. Again, it wasn't the words, exactly. The thief had been threatened many times over the years by simply being in his profession and trailing after a spy like Klaus. Simple threats had no effect on him.

However, if Dorian had learned anything at all, that particular combination of smile and tone was something Klaus normally reserved for terrifying enemies.

A tremor slid up his spine. For a moment, Dorian could think of nothing witty to reply with.

The ensuing silence allowed Klaus to feel the rapidly beating heart beneath his hand with startling clarity. A sliver of alarm reflected in the Brit's face, and it was briefly satisfying to be able to finally give the whimsical thief a reality check he so desperately needed. Then disgust came like the recoil of his gun, sinking heavily into the pit of Klaus' stomach a moment later. He didn't enjoy seeing the emotion on the earl and didn't want to dwell on what his own aversion meant.

Fortunately, the quiet was only temporary. The idiot rarely let his better judgement reign for long.

"...you wouldn't," Dorian whispered, his voice stubbornly defiant. Blue eyes met Klaus' and dared Klaus to prove him wrong. The beat beneath Klaus' hand had steadied. "Do you remember Venice?"

Of course, he did. The reminder brought forth a whisper of memories - the gun Klaus had pointed at the earl's face, the sound of bullets tossed out by the Italian Mafia, the Russians, and the police, and staring directly at the same vibrant blue eyes.

It would have been a simple thing to shoot. His finger had been a hair's breadth away from pulling the trigger. Even if the police had traced the bullet back to him, there was still a widespread cry for the Pope's kidnapper to be punished for his misdeeds. And, with Dorian being a member of the British nobility, England would have wanted the entire incident swept under the rug as soon as possible.

Repercussions would have been minimal on the law enforcement end. There would still be the criminal underground to deal with, but Klaus had never let making enemies stop him.

And _yet_ , even as a criminal and a colossal nuisance, Eroica was not _evil_. He wasn't a threat to democracy nor his country; he wasn't quite the sinner the pastors preached about. If Klaus had taken the shot, he didn't think there'd be much separating him from a bloodthirsty killer.

"Tch." Klaus loosened his hold and let the other man go with a scoff. "S'a long time ago." He reached for his cigarette and took a drag.

"You're still the same man that you were back then, Major." Dorian's lips turned up in a pale imitation of one of his usual smiles. He remained where he was for a while longer and rested his arm over his eyes. The discomfort of laying down on the table was trivial compared to the ache in his chest. "You're consistent that way."

Klaus didn't linger on the meaning of the thief's words. After a pause, Klaus frowned and steered the conversation back on course. "Will you take the job or not?"

It took a long moment for Dorian to lift his arm to stare at Klaus. Brief conflict showed on his expression before smoothing out. "...yes, but with something in addition to NATO'S regular payment."

Klaus frowned, brows knitting. "After you go on about how easy this mission is, you're going to ask for more money?"

"No. Not that, but you would be pressured to accept anyway, wouldn't you?" Dorian chuckled and sat up. "You need Eroica to create a large enough fuss for you to go do something heroic, like saving the world." He tapped a finger to his lips thoughtfully and slid his eyes towards Klaus. Blue eyes turned faintly sly. "You can count on my ability to create a big splash as always, Major."

Silence reigned. There was no point in denying it even with those ridiculous descriptors. "What do you want then?"

Slowly, Dorian stood up from the table, casually dusting himself off. There was a calculated silence that threatened Klaus' patience before the thief replied, "Go on a date with me."

The cigarette almost fell from Klaus' fingers at that answer. "Are you fucking joking?"

Dorian's smile became amused, though it belied a touch of tiredness. "Major, I love you."

" _Eroica--_ "  
  
Dorian wasn't done. He raised a hand to halt the impending tirade. "Hear me out, _Klaus_." The earl took a breath, visibly restraining himself from twisting the words into the airy sort of nonsense that would undoubtedly send Klaus into a rage.

Nonsense, of course, could be an excuse to say he'd never been serious in the first place. A method to prevent his heart from being worn on his sleeve. Romantic as it sounded, that vulnerability of love was a naivety he didn't partake in. However, clearly something needed to change in order for both of them to progress from their standstill.

"Give me an honest chance for one date. I promise if you hate it, I'll stop chasing you." Dorian smiled and allowed himself a bit of false levity. "I'll even stop interfering with your missions. That would be worth giving it a go, don't you think?"

Consternation slid into Klaus' mind, keeping him from even commenting on the usage of his given name. Years of the thief's relentless chase suddenly came down to a few sentences. It was… _abrupt._ Controversial. What happened to Dorian always getting what he wanted? Klaus felt like he'd been thrown off-kilter and would have preferred foisting an added bill to Accounting. "What the fuck?"

The look on the thief's face halted Klaus from dismissing it outright. "Why now? What are you planning, Eroica?" How could he not be suspicious?

"I love you, but neither of us are getting any younger," Dorian answered, covering part of his face with his hands. Penetrating blue eyes peered up at Klaus through his fingers. "It's just time to see if we-- if _I_ need to move on."

Klaus stewed in silence. His automatic reaction was to reject the proposal and demand Dorian stop chasing him anyway, but something in the fool's eyes said that it would be the wrong course of action. It was a trigger, he realized. Another trigger waiting to be pulled or not pulled.

He thought briefly of a life without Dorian in it, and for a moment, Klaus couldn't imagine it beyond the blindingly obvious. It would be _good_. No more ridiculous hijinks and chases across countries, no more microfilms and black boxes stolen right from under him, and certainly no more flamboyant earls underfoot.

Then, even if with the greatest of reluctance, Klaus pushed beyond the obvious. The initial relief at having the thief gone would be rewarding, but not lasting. NATO had grown reliant on he and Dorian as a team, and would expect Eroica to lend a helping hand on difficult missions that required his expertise. Even if Dorian and his gang of thieves were willing or had to be strong-armed into assistance, Klaus wasn't naive to think they'd work with the same level of dedication.

As whimsical as Dorian was, when it came down to the wire, he'd always come through. But, once Klaus was no longer the subject of Dorian's affection, there'd be no assurance the thief would always have his back. Dorian could no longer be considered _his_ thief.

The last possessive twist to his thoughts caused Klaus to curse internally. _Fuck_. It'd even come packaged in Mischa's unhelpfully mocking voice.

Klaus hated compromises. However, ever since he met Dorian Red Gloria, he had been forced into many. His only consolation was that he wouldn't be the only one that needed to compromise.

Dorian had _expectations_ , stupid romantic, foppish expectations, without a doubt. Klaus wasn't one of those damned pretty boys hanging off the earl's arm, with enough stars in their eyes to fill and stroke Dorian's ego.

Reality rarely held up to expectations. Klaus would have to wake Dorian up. "Arrange something after the mission's done."

Dorian lit up like a child on Christmas morning, but he sobered quickly. The demand wasn't the acceptance he wanted from Klaus, but it was a start, or perhaps, it was the beginning of the end. Still, a genuinely happy smile traced his lips. "I look forward to it."

The earl's smile was not frivolous or smug like Klaus expected. Klaus said nothing in reply, but a thoughtful frown twisted his lips. There was a bit of hesitation, but he could admit, in the safety of his own mind, that Dorian was truly in love with him.

A lull that threatened to be uncomfortable reigned for a few moments before being broken. "Don't suppose we could seal this arrangement with a kiss?"

Klaus froze for a moment. Irritation rose and faded at the faint hesitation and desire to move back to familiar territory on the earl's face. He'd not been the only one thrown off. "Not if you value your life," Klaus replied without heat.

Studying the blueprints, Klaus noted Dorian had returned his figurine. There were also changes. Z had been placed closer to an exit point with a better view of the painting. G and J had been moved into the room, where they'd have the chance to play the crowd.

It struck Klaus suddenly just how long they'd known each other for.

"Such a spoilsport," Dorian sighed.

Klaus scoffed. "And yet, you profess to love me."

Dorian grinned, letting the lightness of possibility and the thrill of anticipation swell in him. "I like the challenge," he said and stood. There was nothing more to do here with their business concluded.

Tomorrow was a new day. He had a heist to complete, and a date to plan.

**Author's Note:**

> This was somewhat a trial to write. I realized after the first three attempts at writing a happy ending, I'm *really* prone towards angst once I get going. This was the closest I've gotten since the start of Yuletide, I swear! (Ｔ▽Ｔ);;
> 
> Although the time period is wrong for this fiction, I imagined the painting to be the Narcissus by Roberto Ferri (2017). The "Monday" here stemmed from a casual browse through an art theft history book.


End file.
